The Best Deceptions
by Revok
Summary: “Your trailer trash requests a meeting with the high and mighty cheerbitch for a round of fun,” I say dryly, watching her roll her eyes at me. Impressive, normally only I do that. Darcy x Manny.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Okay, for anyone who's been reading Wonderwall, this has nothing to do with it. Lol. I wanted to write more fluff in it but I knew it wouldn't work well with the storyline, so I decided to make spin off in all its own individual glory. Cheers.

**The Best Deceptions**

I groan and turn to slam my hand forcefully on her alarm clock in all its buzzing annoyance. Opening a bleary eye, I almost curse outloud at the time. Who the hell sets their clock at six-thirty when Degrassi doesn't open its doors until eight? I hear a rustling of sheets next to me, and I know she's smiling in her sleep as I look over at her.

Her hair's all over her pillow, traces of her lip gloss smudged and she's wearing an oversized t-shirt that belonged to some nameless boyfriend of hers in the past.

And she's still beautiful. That bitch.

"Morning, love." I say dryly, prodding her in the stomach where I know she's ticklish. She squirms at my touch, and she can't hide the grin spilling over her face. "Manny," she half-laughs, half-whines,"Stop it." I smirk and tickle her further, laughing as she opens her eyes wide and sticks out her tongue at me.

"Keep sticking that out and I might have to kiss it." I challenge, arching an eyebrow impressively high.

"Manny Santos, you're gay!" She exclaims, faux surprised.

"You know it and love it, loser."

"Bitch's loser."

I roll out of bed and fall onto the floor, pretending to ache inside. "Lassie, I've fallen and I can't get up!" I wail.

Her laugh graces my ears and I'm pleasantly surprised when she falls ontop of me. "Yeah, Timmy?" Darcy continues the act, caressing my cheek,"Can I kiss it better?"

She leans in impossibly closer and that's when it happens.

"Manuella, you're going to be late for school!"

The fucking door opens. "Yes, mother." I call out wearily, shooting a small glare as Darcy stifles a giggle next to me. Momma Santos comes over and sees me, clad in boxer shorts and a bra and Darcy in just a large shirt and rolls her eyes. "Good God, girls, again?" she says, placing a hand over her eyes and leading herself out.

I love that woman. I really do. But if she walks in one more time I'm installing a fucking lock. "Bitch," I pout at Darcy, who's now shaking with laughter. Still ontop of me, I might add. "Make it better," I add, and she complies, leaning in to give me a chaste kiss before I can deepen it further. "We have that thing called school," she reminds me cutely.

Confined spaces. No windows. Droning adults. Oh, yeah_. That_ thing.

I nod grudgingly, letting her get off of me and look around for her clothes from last night. Pulling myself up off the floor, I loosely wrap an arm around her waist and place a sloppy kiss on her cheek before heading off to the bathroom to shower before first period. On normal circumstances I would have asked her to join me, but it's a Monday morning so I'm tired as well.

When I return I see a note of her farewell, and I have to say I'm not disappointed. At first, I was, but routine seeps in and it's something I've gotten used to. Dressing quickly (and effectively to hide any distinguishing 'marks') I grab my backpack and run out of the door with a shout of goodbye to my mom. It's not long before I'm greeted by Emma and Sean, the golden couple, as we head on over to Degrassi High.

Scowling, someone knocks into my shoulder and makes me drop my books to the floor. "Hey! Watch the fuck where you're going!" I yell angrily at a retreating back.

She turns around and gives me a glare to match my own, and I'm surprised she doesn't have another go at pushing me over. "Watch where _you're _going, Santos," she growls,"Are all trailer trash blind now? Or are you just too poor to afford contacts?" Emma and Sean don't say anything; they know not to fight my own battles, bless them.

"And people wonder why holier than thou Christians have such a bad rep," I roll my eyes at her. "I'm sure you're just _preaching_ the Lord's work."

Her lips twitch upwards for a moment, and I almost smile then, too. She makes no nasty comment back at me and flips her hair, walking up the steps ahead of me. I won this time, but no doubt she'd have more to say to me later.

"Good morning to you too, Darcy!" I call cheerfully, knowing she's smiling as she walks through the doors.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Because the power went out when I was typing up the next chapter to Wonderwall, I'm so not in the mood to rewrite everything so decided to go for this chapter instead.

Ch. 2

Telling the golden couple I need to go to my locker, I go directly to the girls' bathroom in the east wing and knock on the door twice, pause, then three times in quick succession and wait. Before I even have the chance to get irritated, the door swings open and I'm dragged inside.

"Your trailer trash requests a meeting with the high and mighty cheerbitch for a round of fun," I say dryly, watching her roll her eyes at me. Impressive, normally only I do that.

Swiftly shutting me up with a kiss, I feel her push me against the door and I can't help but wonder if I'm going to get diseased. Public bathrooms are so not sanitary.

When she does that _amazing _trick with her tongue, though, I seem to forget.

Pulling away after a few moments, I rest my head against hers and notice the rosy coloring to her cheeks and smile. "I'm still pissed you called me poor," I say, pouting.

Darcy laughs and presses her lips against mine lightly, moving back to cutely tap me on the nose. "Loser," she smirks.

Frowning, I place my arms around her waist and eye her suspiciously. "I saw you and whatsherface at the rally last Wednesday," I accuse.

She raises her eyebrows questioningly. "There are at least a dozen other members of the squad, Manny, be specific."

I think for a moment. "The rat-faced one," I answer simply.

Darcy laughs but motions for me to be a _little_ more detailed than that. What? If you saw our cheer squad this year you'd say the same. My baby is the only head-turner there.

"The one with the bad nose job?" I add in, hoping that cleared it up. She furrows her eyebrows, and then asks, "Heather or Holly Sinclair?"

Ew. They're _both _on the squad?

"They're _both_ on the squad?"

"Heather bought her way in with new uniforms, Holly actually isn't half-bad," she admits. I glare at her jealously, before Darce chuckles and gives in. "But neither have anything on you, baby." Damn right.

"_Anyway_," I press on with my accusation," I totally saw you looking up her skirt during that routine!" Her eyebrows rise unnecessarily high, before shaking her head and making a 'tch' sound at me.

"You're ridiculous," Darcy replies," If you hadn't _noticed_, Heather has the grace of a hippo on crack; I had to look up so she wouldn't fall."

I tilt my head at her, genuinely nonplussed. "And that would be bad because…"

"Because, you over analytical, sarcastic, jealous freak, it'd look bad on the cheer _captain_, i.e. myself," she pauses, poking me hard at my ribs.

I blink, understanding now. "Oh."

"Yeah, _oh,_" Darcy mocks me, using my sarcastic tone whenever _I_ make fun of _her_.

"Tone-stealer."

"Social reject."

"Cheerbitch."

"Bad haircut."

My hands fly to my bangs, running them through dark locks as I shoot a glare at her. "I love your haircut," she says honestly, smiling at me. "I love your…tone-stealingness," I say back.

She laughs and I smile, because only Darcy would find that cute.


	3. Chapter 3

Physics means a lot of things.

When I think of physics, I think movement; therefore, I preferably think of late nights and tangled bedsheets in the morning with my favorite brunette. I do _not,_ for example, think of how fast it would take Train A to reach Train B at Train Station Who-Gives-A-Fuck. Ms. Reynolds doesn't seem to get that, and I'm abruptly startled into rousing consciousness as I blearily look up from my desk.

"Mmm?"

"Miss Santos, I'd very much appreciate it if you caught up on sleep on your own time, not during my class," she quips, before strolling back to the front of the class to carry on about the importance of speed and other crap no one cares about. Ugh. Yeah? I'd appreciate it if you got laid sometime, you dried up piece of – what the hell?

I look behind me to see a certain girl studiously taking notes while her cheerbitch consultants 'study' their make-up in the mirror. Jesus Christ, she must be starved for intelligent conversation half the time. I unravel the crumpled piece of paper that was just tossed at my head, eyes scanning the message.

_Sup, bitch? One too many late one night stands?_

Rolling my eyes, I dig into my bag for a pen, scribble a reply, and aim it perfectly back.

_If you're implying about my own nightly endeavors, I'd suggest you look in a mirror. Too much concealer, babe. Didn't your boytoy inform you, or was he too busy applying his lipgloss correctly?_

I yawn, almost forgetting the exchange, before my head becomes victim to yet another bad throw. Or aimed perfectly … that's a plausible reason, too. I click my pen again, and our notes become my main form of entertainment while dear Reynolds drones on, apparently taking extreme measures to the phrase, 'I could die of boredom.' If only.

_Very funny, you. And Peter and I, for the last time, are just friends. Not that I need to encourage your stalking capability._

_I'd like to think so, thanks. Oh, is that so? Who's the stalker, girl with the eyes or boy with the camera?_

…

_Eloquent response there, Edwards. Almost poetic._

_Eloquent? Someone learned a new word, did you look it up the dictionary all by yourself?_

_No, actually. I was marveling over my girlfriend's body one night- not that you need to know that detail, my favorite Bible thumper- and was thinking, hey, I should totally learn a new string of adjectives to describe how bangable she –_

"Hey!" My declaration of outrage goes unnoticed by the teacher now currently reading the note, and it's with secondhand embarrassment (but mostly smug pride) do I notice her cheeks tinting pink. Did it give you a _thrill,_ Reynolds? I mean, I didn't know it was as possible to be as dry as the Sahara in just your thirties, but…

"Detention, after school. You and Miss Edwards." What?

"What?" Darcy growls as she stands, pointing at me. "She started it!"

I whip back in my chair to give her a rivaled glare, so awesome her cheerbitch friends stopped shooting me the evil eye. Oh, well I'm _sorryy_ I took your shopping companion. "Excuse me, Mother Mary?"

"She was distracting me with her unwanted attention. I couldn't finish my notes because she kept antagonizing me." She juts out her chin and looks defiantly superior. I raise my eyebrows.

"_Antagonizing?_ Look, if you wanna _make _this World War III, we can, slut."

"I'm the slut?! How the hell do _you _get off – "

"Amazingly, if you wanna know so bad. Not that you would, personally, Miss Virgin For Life."

"Enough!" Ms. Reynolds' sharp interruption cutting into our heated moment, with most of the class perking up and whispering conspiracies on who'd win; like any other usual time, I might add. "That's lunch and after school detention now."

"But Miss Reynolds – "

"Who in the _hell_ appointed you leader?"

She gives me such a look I don't think twice of talking back. "As far as leadership goes, I am in this classroom. Now, back to momentum…" She walks back to the front, eager to get the students back on track after that brief diversion of, I don't know, something worth paying attention to.

I hear the scrape of a chair that indicates Darcy sitting back down, and I slouch lower in my seat and huff, crossing my arms. Ugh, detention. I mean, it's with my girl so it won't be completely bad, but… I trail off in thought, vowing to stay mad as I feel her eyes staring into the back of my head.

I stay that way for all of three seconds before I cave.

With her cheer minions' heads buried in a Seventeen magazine, she mouths the words '_I love you.'_

I flip her off before doing the same.


End file.
